you join a hood,
hoping one hop
for every three rung.
and, you realize-
you ain’t climbing up
just sinking down slow.

hopes thinning
doubts growing
blues crawling
silence wrapping

are you?
if you are, can you?
if you can, will you?
if you will –
will that make you happy?
now… are you?

like an echo, in the forest,
the opportunity will come around.
like a tide, in the ocean,
the opportunity will ebb and flow.
like a rainbow, after the storm,
the opportunity will be found!

yeah, life goes on 🎵

If the curio wick
could bring me
eternal knowledge,
will I be generous?

If I am generous,
will they perceive
my true intention?

What if my intentions
don’t enlighten them
but enhance what I
already know?

just another ordinary day
or so it pretends
and that old gnawing ache
finds me again.

I see her joining
smiles, brimming, full of hope
like a flickering candle
trying to make an impact
for one final time.

but little does she know
the hidden agenda
that was planned & sealed
eight bitter days ago.

chances are never
what they claim to be
they’re never true,
not here, atleast.

it was a predefined strategy
masked in the form of
opportunity.

you either fall into trap A
or into  B but
there is no inbetween.
it was just a reprieved decision
in the first place.

this isn’t common –
but it’s becoming the norm
in this startup hood,
that’ll remain startup
for this very obvious reason.

my phrases are ready
empathies and praises
to gently nudge her.
though it’s genuine,
will she feel that way?

I hope she never comes back
for, she deserves a chance,
that’s actually a chance.

Birds whispered secrets
loud and clear, no gossips;
just when they digressed a little,
gusts of rain poured
from the rooftop kitchen.

he seemed worn out
counting his luckiest hours,
he wondered whether it’s
too late to decide.

She put down her knitting
and tried to foresee his future;
nothing she confessed,
as she found herself entangled
in the picture, bitter sweetly.

Behind the shut windows,
I was asked to choose a goal.
just one and I,
opted to day dream;
least, they embraced careless.
Now, wind rattles the blinds 
only to remind me,
success stories are born
when all doors are shut.

My screams are knocking from inside.
They want to let the shame, fear, and guilt
out into the real.

I trained them
to stay quiet, strong and
to never disturb –
unless they were ready
to face those who
wouldn’t understand.

Once they step out,
they won’t be seen the way I see them.
And I…
I won’t be treated the way I used to be.

Their soundless screams
curl into the corners of my throat,
clawing for a way out.

I’ve tried.
Many times, I’ve tried to free them –
but they’re tied inward,
knotted around
the versions of me.